


Things Never Go According to Plan

by Bowm8935



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anders is able to switch between male and female, M/M, female form gets pregnant, so kind of mpreg?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders was cursed with the ability to shift between genders. He and Fenris both want Hawke, so he decides to use his feminine form to lure Fenris away from Hawke. Of course, it doesn't quite go as he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Never Go According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TearsOfWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsOfWinter/gifts).



> This comes from a completely awesome prompt from TearsofWinter- hope you enjoy!!!

“Have a good night, Lirene!” the soft, feminine voice called, the figure turning to leave the shop. They waved a hand when the farewell was echoed, quietly opening the door and slipping into the cool, dark air of the night. Pivoting to head down first the stairs from the shop, then the set that led into the main level of Lowtown, they pulled the black cloak around them tighter, shivering slightly. It came as an annoyance- albeit an interesting one- that this form was cooler than their normal one; it was much, much easier to become cold. After a few years of having the ability to switch between forms, one would think they’d have developed some sort of tolerance.

Anders sure thought so. He figured that eventually his body would settle on some sort of middle ground between his male form and woman form, but had yet to have the fortune to see it happen. Instead, he was left with two extremes; always being warm as a man, or always being cool as a woman. His normal mage robes would have helped with the temperature issue of his female body, he was sure, but he couldn’t wear them for two reasons: 1, he was trying not to draw attention that he was the one and same person, because if anyone looked _too_ closely they’d be able to see that, and 2, they didn’t fit him. Not only did his form fill out into the expected curves of womanhood, but he lost quite a few inches on his male self. Thus, they did not close all the way and they drug on the ground.

Unfortunate.

He had been angry with Velanna in the beginning, livid that she would think his simple jokes and flirtations worth such a curse. But as he was forced to spend more time as a woman (and it had taken a _significant_ amount of time for him discover how to turn back), he learned just how sexist he had really been. He hadn’t believed women were treated any differently than men before the transformation, but his eyes had been opened after. His treatment of her – and the other women in Amaranthine Keep -  had shifted drastically upon that discovery. She had told him she would retract the curse when he returned from the last mission he ever embarked on with the Wardens. That didn’t happen, for obvious reasons.

Sometimes he wondered if she regretted it, now that she thought he was dead.

As time wore on, he found it incredibly useful. Running from the Templars became a lot easier when they were looking for a six-foot-tall man, not a 5’4” woman. He started letting his hair grow a little more, keeping it pulled half back when in male form but letting it hang loose as a female. Just another way to hide his face from anyone looking for him. He knew his face softened, becoming less angular and more rounded, lips becoming fuller and eyes slightly larger. Men and women alike found him attractive in either gender, a fact he also took advantage of occasionally.

Today had been a busy day with the mage underground, running notes all over Kirkwall to help set up the next escape. He only ever participated in the grunt work as a female, letting “Anders” mostly run the clinic and do the transporting out of Kirkwall. It was a system that worked well, and he saw no reason to alter it.

“Oof!” His eyes widened when he fell to the ground, knocked off his feet by someone rushing out of The Hanged Man. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going, sadly not an uncommon issue with him. Landing on his butt, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

“I beg your pardon, my lady. I did not see you there. Please, let me assist you to your feet.”

A gauntlet-clad hand reached down, palm raised to reflect the offer the deep voice had spoken. Anders was frozen as he stared at the hand in front of him; he knew that armor, _he knew that voice._ He briefly considered refusing the help just on principle, instead grudgingly reaching out to grasp the palm, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. “Thanks,” he grumbled, brushing off the front of his cloak without bothering to look at the man in front of him.

 “Please accept my most profuse apologies, my lady. Have you been injured by my extreme carelessness?”

Anders paused in his movements, hands hovering over the black cloth as he slowly looked up into green eyes filled with concern. If not for the indisputable evidence right in front of his face, he might have thought he had been mistaken in his original assumption of the man’s identity. But now, as his eyes took in the dusky skin, the feathery white hair, the pointed ears and the telltale tattoos beginning on his chin, he knew without a doubt it was Fenris who had knocked him over. Yet how polite he was being… Anders had never been on the receiving end of such a thing before. He and Fenris never got along; they fought like cats and dogs.

It dawned on him suddenly that Fenris had no idea who he was. There was not a hint of recognition upon his face, only concern and mild regret. Surprising as it might be, if Fenris was treating him with kindness and respect, he would return it regardless of what form he was in. Anders might be a number of things, but cruel was not one of them.

“I’m quite well, serrah, thank you for your concern,” he replied with a small curtsey. “I’m afraid it was as much my fault as yours; I was lost in my thoughts and not watching where I was going.”

"That makes two of us, although I sincerely hope that your thoughts were less troublesome than mine." Fenris was giving him a small smile, the edges of his lips barely turned up. It was a look he had only ever seen directed at Hawke.

An idea sprung into his head.

"Pray tell, what could such a handsome man have to worry about?" Anders asked, giving him a coy smile and fluttering his eyelashes. Fenris' smile faltered a bit as he looked at Anders with wide eyes, surprise briefly flashing across his face. "I mean, you're just so _attractive_ and well-spoken, surely the world is at your feet, good ser."

Fenris stared at him for a moment before covering his mouth and letting out a small, shy laugh, color seeping throughout his face. "You flatter me, my lady," he said, his voice a pitch lower than normal. "Though I must say, you are quite beautiful yourself.”

Anders giggled, placing a hand on his chest and giving Fenris a demure smile. “You’re too kind, serrah,” he purred, dropping his head and look up from beneath his eyelashes.

“Fenris.” The elf gave a small bow, rising with the smile still on his face. “My name is Fenris. And what may I call you, dear lady?” He reached out and gently took one of Anders’ hands, pulling it to his lips to press a kiss along his knuckles.

Anders felt a shiver course through his body despite himself, both impressed and disheartened by the man’s courtesy toward him. He obviously had the ability, then, to be friendly; what was so bad about Anders in his male form that he didn’t deserve it? “Annnnnnnnngie,” he answered, correcting himself midway through the name. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he almost revealed his identity. What’s worse is that wasn’t the name he generally went by- no, it was much too close to the original.

Oh well. What were the odds Fenris would find out the other name, anyway? _No harm done_ , he assured himself as the elf released his hand. He pulled it back into his body, holding it in his other over his breasts, allowing a goofy smile to creep upon his face as Fenris gazed at him.

“It was wonderful to meet you, lady Angie, although I wish it were under different circumstance. Perhaps should I see you again, I can attempt to make a better impression. Have a splendid rest of your evening.” Fenris bowed again, before giving him one last smile. He then strolled past Anders toward the steps that would take him to Hightown, his gait long and smooth. Anders watched him walk away, thousands of different thoughts flying through his mind.

Slowly, he turned and pulled up the hood to his cloak again, scurrying toward the elevator to take him to Darktown. He had some thinking to do tonight.

~*~

It was a bad plan.

One of the biggest sources of discourse between Fenris and Anders outside of mage rights was Hawke. Both of the men wanted her, and she absolutely thrived from their attention. Anders firmly believed that played a huge part in how nasty they really could be to each other, even though their fighting drove her insane.

Anders had been despairing as of late because she seemed to be spending more time with Fenris than him. They shared more inside jokes – though to be fair, Hawke was usually the only one who laughed, Fenris just smiled in his quiet way – and went to Varric’s suites more together. Anders knew there were times when he wasn’t invited along on outings (he had a strong suspicion that had to do with the content of said outings being something he’d disapprove of) when Hawke would take the elven warrior, but it was almost never the other way around.

So Anders decided to do something beneath him to win back her attention.

He was going to distract Fenris.

~*~

Anders had made sure to take a nice, hot bath before heading out. Not only did it clean him and leave him smelling like wildflowers (he liked the scent and did not care one bit if it was “unmanly” or not), but it was what would turn him into a woman. He threw on one of his less-ratty dresses, smoothing down the dark blue fabric before pulling on his cloak. He had overheard Fenris and Varric talking about drinking together at The Hanged Man tonight, and it was his intention to “accidentally” run into Fenris again.

And that is exactly what he did.

He walked into The Hanged Man with his head held high, seeking out a table in view of the bar. He wasn’t sure where they would be tonight; sometimes the gang was up in Varric’s suites, other times they stayed downstairs. Either way, eventually someone would need a refill and if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to wait long for Fenris to come to the bar. He sat at the end of an empty table facing the bar, politely asking for cider when Nora asked. He did his best to give off a foreboding aura to ensure he was left alone, but all it took was keeping his hood around him and no one bothered him.

He sat there, waiting, for such a long time that he was considering going home when the elf finally made an appearance. He let his hood fall just enough to allow a glimpse of his face, eyes trained on the glass in front of him while trying to keep an eye on the man in his vision.

It didn’t take long for another body to join him at the table.

“So we meet again, lady Angie,” Fenris said softly. Anders raised his head to look and noticed the elf wearing the same small smile as he had the other night, pushing forward a new tankard of cider. “I must confess I find it a little strange that you come here to drink cider, but if it allows me the good fortune of seeing you again, I shall not let it concern me overmuch.”

Anders took the drink, smiling back at him. “Why, thank you, serrah Fenris. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He took a small sip of the cider, eyes dancing as he gazed at the man in front of him.

Fenris chuckled, taking a drink of his own ale. “Alas, I find myself here more than I should. I have a friend who lives upstairs, and we often play cards together. It is one of the few things I get to do that I find enjoyable, so I partake in it as much as possible.”

Anders noticed that Fenris’ confession had a gloomy tinge to it, as though he wanted to have more to do. He allowed himself a moment of guilt at not realizing how _boring_ it must be for him, living alone in that giant mansion and only coming out to The Hanged Man or to go on quests with Hawke. Did the man have any hobbies?

“Surely you have other things that are fun. Any hobbies, perhaps?” he asked, genuinely curious. He had never taken much time to consider Fenris as a person in the past.

Fenris’ smile became sad and he looked away, toward the corner of the tavern where the fire crackled. “I regret to admit that I do not. I… suffered an injury from magic that removed any memories of my past, and I have not had the time to try to rediscover any old interests.”

“Oh Fenris, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry,” Anders replied in a whisper, reaching a hand across the table to lay it on top of the elf’s. Fenris jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, looking down in shock at the pale hand atop of his before the smile became just the tiniest bit larger as he looked up at Anders.

“It is of no concern. I am sure I can determine new enjoyable pursuits, given the ability to do so.” He flipped his hand over to grab Anders’ and brought to his lips, again pressing a soft kiss along the knuckles. Anders felt his heart flutter a bit, taken back by the action.

Slightly alarmed at the confusing feelings rising up in him, he pulled his hand back and stood up quickly, nearly knocking his flagon over in the process. He reached out a steadying hand, picking it up to take a large gulp of the cider before placing it back on the table. “I’m sorry, I must go,” he said quietly, moving to head to the door. He felt a hand placed gently on his arm, and he turned to look up at Fenris.

“Before you depart, my lady, I was wondering if you might be willing to let me see you again?” Fenris asked. His tone gave away how nervous he was asking such a thing, and Anders reluctantly found it rather charming. “Perhaps we could meet here and go for a walk sometime?”

Anders gazed up at him, melting as he saw the pure look of hope in his eyes. “Yes, that would be fine,” he whispered, mentally kicking himself for being unable to say no.

“Would tomorrow work? At the third bell?”

Anders nodded, unable to help the smile that fought its way onto his face in response to the sudden bright grin from Fenris.

“I look forward to it, my lady,” Fenris said, bowing. Anders curtsied, inclining his head briefly as he turned toward the door.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was now in over his head.

~*~

Anders showed up to that meeting, and the next, and the one after that. Somewhere along the way, he began to enjoy spending time with Fenris when he was “Angie.” Fenris was a completely different man around her than he was around Anders, and the differences were sometimes _mind-boggling_. But the more time Anders spent with him, the more he began to realize that Fenris was actually a very sweet, romantic man. Clueless with relationships, yes, but he tried. One day he brought Anders flowers, obviously handpicked from some garden. Anders had squealed in delight, putting them in a spare potion bottle with some water and hiding them in the back of the clinic. He couldn’t leave them out front like he wanted and risk Fenris walking in.

He discovered the elf absolutely loved sweet rolls, and started to bring them along any time they went on a date – which is what it became, even if Anders chose to deny it. Anders started to drop by the mansion to go for walks with Fenris, enjoying the time they spent laughing and talking.

Any time guilt would rear its ugly head, he would stuff it back down. He wasn’t playing with Fenris’ emotions. No, no, he was simply enjoying time with a new _friend_. Sure, he was keeping a potentially destructive secret about who he really was from him, but that didn’t matter. Right? Right.

Fenris found out about his work in the mage underground when he ran into him one night while delivering notes. He had expected an explosion, a fight like what they had when he was in his male form, but nothing came. Fenris gave him a sad look, asking if they were still on for their walk the next afternoon. Anders had affirmed their plans, almost too scared to show up. When he did, he found that Fenris just asked why he was involved, and patiently listened to his explanations. Even more shocking was when Fenris said, “I may not agree with you on all mages, but I will support you in any endeavor you embark upon. Let me know if you need any help, my dear mage.”

That’s when Anders knew he was hopelessly in love with him.

~*~

“This is a book for children.” Fenris shoved the book away from him disdainfully, leveling an irritated look at Anders. “Surely you cannot expect me to read this?”

Anders let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Fenris,” he started, keeping his voice soothing, “They don’t make adult books for the level you are at. I promise, if you do this, you’ll be on to regular books in no time. You’re learning this at an incredible rate.”

Fenris sneered at the primer on the table, reaching out grudgingly to drag it back to him. “The tales in these books are ridiculous,” he scoffed, flipping through the pages. “I can recognize half of them by the pictures. They were told to me as a child.”

“Mmhmm. Still, it’s the best place for you to start. Honestly, you are so hard to motivate sometimes,” Anders teased, smirking when Fenris glared at him. “I think I’m going to need to get more creative if we are going to continue these lessons, else you’ll give up entirely.”

Fenris carefully sat the book down, one side of his mouth curving up in a mischevious grin. “Oh? And what sort of reward would I get for being a good boy and doing the reading?”

Anders crossed his arms under his chest and leaned forward on the table, knowing the position would allow Fenris an ample look at the cleavage visible above the top of his tunic. The elf’s eyes flicked down, as expected, before he locked his gaze with Anders, a hunger present that wasn’t there before. “What is it that you’d like, Fen?” Anders purred, tilting his head to the side and trying for a seductive look.

It must have worked, because with a low growl Fenris stood and moved around the table, crashing his lips into Anders’ for a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. Anders simply parted his, allowing Fenris to deepen the kiss as the elf pushed even closer. Dusky hands entwined in long blonde hair, pale hands reaching to do the same with white locks. The kiss grew more heated the longer it went, until they had to break for air. Fenris used the opportunity to press kisses down his neck, biting at his pulse point, causing Anders to whimper. A growl escaped the elf’s throat at the sound, and he bit again at Anders’ collarbone.

“Oh _Maker_ ,” Anders wheezed, head thrown back as Fenris continued to nibble his way down to the top of his chest. Nimble hands reached up to untie the tunic, and soon his breasts spilled out, the garment discarded nearby on the floor. Fenris made a small noise of approval, continuing his kisses until he landed upon one peaked nipple, taking it into his mouth and delivering a light suck. Anders gasped, hands tightening in Fenris’ hair as the elf continued to lick and suckle at the peak, a hand reaching up to flick and pinch the other.

Now, Anders had had sex before in his woman form, though not in a long time. The last he could remember was back at the Keep, and he couldn’t recall it feeling _this_ good. He was undulating under Fenris even as the elf switched breasts to pleasure the other nipple, panting and making small sounds of need.

Fenris pulled back suddenly, Anders giving a small whine before he was kissed silent. Hands reached around to slide under his ass, lifting him from the chair he sat in. Anders wrapped his legs around Fenris’ hips as he was carried to the elf’s bed, grinding down as he could on the firm erection he felt underneath his leggings. Fenris moaned into his mouth, Anders biting down on his bottom lip in anticipation at the sound. A shudder ran through Fenris and he pulled back to bite down hard on Anders’ neck, licking the reddened spot with his tongue to soothe after.

Anders was surprised at how soft the mattress was when he was placed on it, and equally surprised at _how_ softly he was laid on it. Fenris didn’t throw him or even set him down roughly; it was as though he were breakable. It melted his heart even more.

Fenris stayed standing long enough to discard his own tunic, crawling over Anders on the bed and giving him a passionate, needy kiss. Anders whined and thrust up, rubbing himself on Fenris as much as possible in his position. Fenris chuckled into his mouth, pulling back to look down at him with eyes blown wide in lust. He reached down to untie his leggings, Anders quickly copying the action, wiggling his own off.

Anders sucked in a breath upon finding out that Fenris did not wear any smallclothes, his erection springing out proud and free and _beautiful_. He reached a hand up toward it, wrapping his smaller fingers around its length and giving it an experimental tug. Fenris threw his head back, eyes closed and let out such a deep moan that Anders couldn’t help but echo it. He gently pushed the elf off of him, situating him on his back with Anders crawling in between his legs. Once again, he wrapped fingers around the base of Fenris’ shaft, this time leaning forward to flick the tip with his tongue. Lyrium-lined fingers reached down to tangle in his hair, and he opened his mouth to swallow him whole. Surprised to find he could, in fact, take in the entire length of the elf, Anders released his grip on the lower end of his cock, moving his hand down to gently rub Fenris’ balls. The man nearly shot off the bed, and Anders chuckled, following it up with a hum while he continued to bob up and down. It didn’t take long for Fenris to start writhing underneath of him, panting and moaning the whole time.

Heat continued to coil in Anders’ stomach, wetness pooling between his legs. When he could no longer stand the want coursing through his veins, he pulled back and released Fenris, reaching down to pull off his smalls. Without a second’s hesitation he stood on his knees, inching forward to position himself right over the throbbing erection, and lowered himself down slowly.

The one advantage to being a woman, in his opinion, was that his body made its own lubricant. He did not need to worry about stretching before, and it felt just as good when he felt Fenris fully seated inside of him. He waited a moment to give himself time to adjust, then started moving. Fenris’ hands moved to his hips, the grip so crushing that it would likely leave bruises. Anders didn’t care. He just wanted release for both of them, to feel Fenris come inside of him.

As he moved, he drug a hand up and over a breast, playing with a nipple and throwing his head back as the pleasure coursed through his body. One of Fenris’ hands released his hip, moving down to flick at the swollen nub between his legs. He whined at the feeling, grinding faster and faster as the heat inside flamed higher.

“Come for me, my mage,” Fenris growled softly, thumb circling his clit one final time before Anders couldn’t hold it back anymore. He keened as white flashed before his eyes, tumbling over the edge into oblivion. He managed to keep himself moving, Fenris’ choked cry telling him the elf had followed him. When he could no longer feel the twitching of seed being released inside, he fell forward, collapsing onto Fenris’ chest, placing lazy kisses along his neck.

Fenris wrapped his arms around him, pushing his nose into his hair. Anders smiled at the action, nuzzling into his neck.

“Stay with me,” Fenris whispered, placing a kiss on top of his head. “Please, stay tonight.”

Anders hesitated; would that be wise of him to do? Oh, he really _was_ way in over his head. But he wouldn’t turn back unless splashed with cold water, and he doubted that Fenris was the type to wake him with such a cruel joke. So…

“Yes. I’ll stay, Fen.”

~*~

They fell into a sort of pattern with the reading lessons; Fenris kept improving at a remarkable rate, and Anders kept fucking him. Part of him (probably Justice) was constantly whispering that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t continue the façade. He needed to come clean to Fenris, but how? When they were together when he was himself, Fenris was still showing disdain toward him. He had tried to change the tone of their discussions, but to no avail. Eventually he gave up and returned to their normal way of bickering, though each jibe hurt worse than the last now. He knew what it was like to be loved by Fenris, and he desperately wanted to reconcile the two sides of his coin.

Finally, he decided he would do it. He would confess his secret to the elf, and let him decide where to take their relationship. If it meant the end of it, well, that would be horrible but he could go on. He would _have_ to go on. But maybe, if the Maker was feeling kind, maybe Fenris would forgive his deception and welcome him into his arms no matter his form.

Then one morning he woke up in his female form. _Strange_ , he thought to himself as he crawled out of bed, reaching for a robe. _I don’t remember falling asleep like this._ He made his way to his small washroom, drawing up some water to wash with- and, consequently, revert him to being a male.

Except that splashing his face with the cold water did nothing.

“Mkay, that’s weird,” he mumbled after the first time, trying it again. Then he tried a third time, eyes widened and panic starting to set in after the fourth time failed also. _Calm down_ , he tried to tell himself, backing out of the room to go sit on a cot. _You’re probably just sick or something, do a scan and you’ll be fine._ He quickly walked over to the closest thing to sit on, settling himself down and closing his eyes in concentration. He let his healing magic rake up and down his body slowly, carefully, so as not to miss anything.

Oh, no, that could _not_ be right.

He did another scan, a little more rushed this time. _No, no, no!_ he mentally screamed at himself, hands reaching up to grab his hair and pull on it in terror. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate, the feeling of suffocation setting in.

 **Calm down** , boomed a loud voice from within him, jolting him out of his anxiety attack. **Panic will not help the situation**.

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Justice,” he muttered under his breath, working to ground himself with breathing techniques. Once he was settled back into a more normal rhythm, he considered his options and how this happened. 

 _The taint should have rendered me infertile_ , he thought as he stared down at the yet flat belly. _This shouldn't have been possible._

 **The taint doesn't affect you as it would a normal human,** Justice replied. **I hold it at bay; it does not hinder your body in any fashion.**

 _What about my Calling?_ Anders asked, brows furrowed _. I can still sense Darkspawn._

**Yes, to sense Darkspawn does not cause you any harm, so I allow it. But for as long as I am present, you will never receive your Calling.**

Anders felt overwhelmed, both from the information Justice provided and from the fact that there was _life_ growing inside of him.

He never thought he'd be a father... Or a mother, as it were. He couldn't in the circle, and he'd assumed any remaining chance had been stripped away once he became a Warden. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

And there was the eensy weensy problem of _Fenris_.

He groaned, placing his head in his hands. _Shit_. He had been planning on telling him today, but how would that go over now? _Yes, hi Fenris, hey just wanted to tell you that I've been lying to you all this time about who I am. I'm actually Anders, you know, the mage you hate? And oh, by the way, I'm now stuck as a woman because I'm pregnant with your child._

That was a sure fire way to get his heart ripped out of his chest.

He decided that he would leave Kirkwall, go somewhere else to have and raise this kid. He had no real idea where, but being alive anywhere else was better than being dead here. Being alive meant he could try to give this child everything he never had.

A stable home. Love. Support. Not the hate and rampant fear of the circle, not the abuse of the Templars.

Mind made up, he went to his bed and pulled out a small bag from underneath, stuffing only the essentials inside. He pulled a simple dress over his head, putting his cloak inside the bag as well. All he had left was to pick between his staves.

He had two, one for each gender to lessen the chance of someone connecting the dots. His normal staff was more attuned to him and thus channeled his power more effectively, but the other one was smaller, easier to use for tiny female hands. He dithered for a bit before choosing the larger one; power would win out in this case, as he had to limit how much lyrium he consumed. More power meant less spellcasting. Given time, he’d gain the muscle on his small frame for it.

He secured the staff on his back and swung the bag over his shoulder. He gazed around the clinic one last time, nostalgia rising up as he thought of how he had to fix it up himself. It had been quite the undertaking, but worth every second of his time spent. He’d miss this place.

With a big sigh, he walked out the door, not bothering to look at the people he passed as he headed down the set of stairs immediately in front of the clinic.

“Angie?”

 _Andraste’s flaming knickers, can’t **anything** go right?_ He slowly turned around, swinging his eyes up to see a confused Fenris. “Hi,” he said weakly, unable to dredge up a smile for his lover.

Fenris glanced over his shoulder at Hawke and Varric as they barged into the now-empty clinic before turning back to him. “Are you- are you well?” he asked, concern permeating his voice. “Did you need to see the healer for something?”

 _The healer_. Not the abomination. He blinked as he took in the significance behind those two words, wondering what exactly it meant. Fenris came closer, ducking down to look into his eyes, reminding him that he was waiting for an answer. “Ah, yes, I’m fine,” he squeaked, trying for a reassuring smile and managing more of a grimace.

“Are you going somewhere?” Fenris asked, looking at the bag on his shoulder. Anders shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot at the question, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to tell the truth. He opened his mouth to attempt at an explanation when Hawke and Varric came rushing out of the clinic.

“He’s not here! It doesn’t look like the Templars came, but there’s no sign of him.” Hawke was speaking in a very rushed manner, obvious worry on her face. Anders winced when her brown eyes passed over him, the deep-seated panic in them making him feel horribly guilty. “Did you do something to him?” she demanded, stepping forward threateningly.

His eyes widened and he stumbled a few steps back; he had always been close to the same height as Hawke before, but now he was several inches shorter, the difference making her seem more menacing. “N-no!” he choked out, backing up as she moved closer. “I-I didn’t see him in there.”

“Hawke,” Fenris growled as he stepped in front of Anders. Anders stared at his back, recognizing the stance he was taking as what he used in battle. “I can promise you that she had nothing to do with it.”

“Like you’d care if something happened to him,” she spat, glaring over his shoulder at Anders. “You’d defend her even if she killed him!”

“Now, Hawke, let’s not get carried away,” Varric said, reaching out and touching her arm. “I’m sure the nice lady didn’t do anything to Blondie. He’s probably out making a house call or something.”

She deflated almost instantly, looking down at her friend. “You’re right. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Sorry,” she aimed at Anders, who simply nodded her way. “We should get going. If we can’t take Anders, I’d like to at least get Merrill.”

“Hawke, I need to bow out of this one,” Fenris said, a ring of finality to his voice. Anders closed his eyes, resigned; obviously Fenris wasn’t going to let him go in peace. Hawke tried to argue, but Fenris simply refused. In the end, she stomped off to go see if Aveline would join them instead, leaving the two alone.

“Come,” Fenris reached out to take Anders’ hand, tugging him in the direction of the elevator. “Let us go back to the mansion, and you can tell me what is wrong there.”

~*~

The walk back had been torturously quiet. Anders had spent the whole time trying to find a way to flee, but unable to come up with a viable solution that would actually work. Fenris was much faster than him, and hadn’t let him go the entire way there. It was almost as though he could feel that Anders was trying to escape, and was not willing to give him the chance.

They were in front of the fire in the sitting room, Fenris sitting in his favorite chair. He had motioned for Anders to join him, but he had refused; if he was going to have to confess everything, he had no intention of being near the elf.

Anders stared at the fire as it crackled, mouth set in a grim line as he steeled his resolve. “I have two things that I need to tell you, Fen,” he started softly, not looking away from the fire. “It’s- it’s going to be hard for me so please just let me get through it. You can ask questions or kick me out or whatever after, okay?”

He heard Fenris shift in his chair, could feel the burn of his eyes on him. “I will refrain from interrupting, Angie. You have my word.”

He took a deep breath, turning to look at the elf. “First of all, you should know that I am pregnant.” Shock passed over Fenris’ face, quickly followed by a storm of different emotions. He looked down at Anders’ belly, his mouth open in disbelief. Finally, he snapped it close and gazed back up at Anders, a look of wonder and joy settling upon his features. That made what he was going to say next hurt even more.

“S-Secondly, and most importantly, I am not who you think I am.” The silence after that statement stretched out between them as Anders tried to remain strong. He turned back to the fire, taking another breath, then he continued, “I-I was cursed many years ago, by an elf who thought I deserved it. She… she made it so that if I touch hot water, I become female. If I touch cold water, I become male. And um. Well. You know me in both of my…forms.” He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye; Fenris was sitting forward in his chair, a blank look upon his face. Well, shit. That was not a good sign. “Uh. M-my male form, well, I am-”

“Anders.”

Anders whipped his head around as he stared at Fenris, not having expected him to say his name. “H-how?” he asked, running a hand through his tangled hair.

“You resemble him…yourself… in appearance, now that I think about it. It was right there in front of my face this whole time, and I never saw it.” Fenris may have had a blank face, but his voice embodied all of his emotions at the moment. Anders backed up from everything he heard in that tone: anger, betrayal, sadness.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Anders whispered, lowering his eyes to the ground. “I was happy, and afraid that if I told you who I was, who I really was, that you wouldn’t want me.” There was no response, only a tangible silence surrounding him. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, and he took another step back, this one angled toward the door. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll leave now, just please don’t kill me.”

“You think I would… kill you? Do you honestly believe that I could harm you?” Fenris’ voice was raw, cracking with emotion. Anders bit his lip, trying to hold back the flood threatening to spill forth from his eyes. “What must you think of me, to assume that I would do such a thing to the woman-person- that I love? To the person who is carrying my child?”

Anders froze; they had never said the “l” word before. “You…you love me?”

The chair creaked as Fenris stood up, and Anders dragged his eyes up to look at him. Fenris’ eyes carried the sheen of unshed tears and his body was tense, but his face was finally any open book. “I do,” he said simply, watching Anders like a hawk. “I do not wish for you to leave, Ang- Anders.”

“B-but I lied to you?” Anders was shaking now, unable to stem the flow of tears streaming down his face. “A-And you h-hate me? And I-I’m a man?”

“Fool mage,” Fenris said, closing the distance between them to fold Anders into his arms. “I never hated you. I found you annoying, yes, and perhaps a little self-righteous, but that was before I knew you. And now, now I am in love with you, regardless of if you are a man or a woman.”

Anders clutched onto him, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I-I love you too, Fen,” he cried, burying himself into the chest of the elf in front of him.

“But do not think that I am not angry with you for deceiving me,” Fenris continued, his voice wavering. “I think- it will take some time for me to trust you again.” Anders nodded; he could understand that. “I wish for you to stay here, with me.”

Anders pulled back, sniffing and running a hand across his nose. “In the mansion?”

Fenris inclined his head in agreement. “If you are to have my child, it should be here, in a house. Not in a dirty clinic. Will you stay?”

Anders’ heart swelled and he threw himself back into the elf’s arms. “Of course I will stay, Fen,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around him. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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